‘It may seem like that now, but the island is dependent on magic and that magic is crumbling under the pressure of war. If we join Rathnor against the Kalayans, this island will suffer beyond repair. We’ll have left Stone Haven to create another island in its image.’
‘You want us to give up the dream?’ Gesle continued, when none of the other captains seemed willing to speak.
‘Our families wouldn’t want us to become killers,’ Captain Roenda said, aiming the comment at her father.
Silence fell over the group and Farrell couldn’t judge what they were thinking, but he felt time slipping away.
‘I say we do what’s right… We join the Kalayans. Take a chance helping them, and we may make it back alive to see our families. Life may be hard on Stone Haven, but it’s better than no life at all.’
Commander, you’re running out of time, Callisa warned him.
‘I need your agreement.’ Farrell looked at each captain. Finally, his gaze came to rest on Gesle. ‘Are you with me?’
‘Yes,’ Captain Gesle said after a moment’s pause.
‘Yes.’ The unanimous whispered chorus echoed in the darkness.
Farrell’s heart swelled at the revelation; these people were willing to trust his word to the point of risking everything, even their lives.
Farrell... Callisa interrupted. You have to hurry.
He looked at his captains, drawing them in closer. ‘Rathnor can’t realise he’s lost our alliance. You have to get your men to hold until I, not Rathnor, gives a command. Our survival, our families’ survival, will depend on them all following my orders tomorrow.’
‘We agree,’ they said together.
‘Now I caution you again to hold your tongues and return to your slumber. Tomorrow, speak with your men in secret and let the fates be with us all.’
He watched them quietly return to their positions. Farrell lay amongst them, but he was too fired up to sleep, his mind awash with tomorrow’s possibilities. He lay back and looked into the sky as Callisa’s spell begin to lift.
Thank you. He sent out the thought, not sure how else to reach her.
Guard yourself well, Commander, she answered, sounding far away.
He smiled into the darkness, picturing the strange young woman. She reminded him of Leila, a strong and determined force.
I like the comparison, but you must guard your thoughts or Rathnor will quickly see the truth.
Farrell blushed. I don’t know how to use my magic.
Callisa showed him the intricacies of the magic inside himself and he learnt how to manipulate those powers to his will. The lesson was brief. He could feel her weakness and the threat of Rathnor still hung over them both.
Go back, he told her. You’ve helped more than enough already.
I promise I’ll teach you more when this is over.
Her spirit drifted away and he was alone again. Farrell used the method Callisa had shown him to close the pathway to his mind. He buried his thoughts deep inside, away from Rathnor’s magic, and then, safely locked in his own cocoon, he pictured his family. He held their memories close, praying he would see them again.
***
‘Are you sure you want to be here?’ Brogan asked, looking across at Ellas.
Ellas grinned. ‘On a fine morning like this, where else would I be?’
Brogan didn’t push the conversation; the wound in Ellas’ stomach was healing well, but his strength would quickly fail when the fighting began.
Despite the Elders’ protests, Hafender had declared every man be given the right to fight. Now the battle lines swelled. Brogan smiled ruefully at the memory, though he knew the general had talked these people into facing death.
They stood at the head of the battle line, watching the empty plain. The mid-morning sun warmed them, but it didn’t disguise the grim reality of what they faced. Brogan swept his gaze across the ranks of men, seeing fear in many eyes, from farmers and mystics alike.
The battle general stalked up and down the line, offering words of wisdom and leaving behind him men with renewed courage ready to fight for their home and their people. Hafender was an awe-inspiring presence holding their army together, and Brogan watched him with the same reverence as the others, waiting for his turn to bask in the general’s attention.
‘Are you ready for this?’ Hafender boomed to the group of men clustered around Brogan.
‘Yes, General,’ Brogan answered, his voice lost amongst the shouts.
Hafender walked amongst them, slapping backs and gripping hands, bestowing every man with an encouraging nod or smile. He caught Brogan’s eye and winked.
Brogan watched the magic of leadership at work. Nothing as sinister as Rathnor’s evil form of control, but the actions of a true hero, one who would stand among them and was willing to die for what was right.
‘Hafender!’ The chant rolled across the battle line and Brogan joined in, knowing he’d follow Hafender anywhere, to any fate.
The giant of a man held up his hand and signalled for quiet. ‘Await the call. You must all hold firm until I give the signal. Keep the line firm and wait for the call.’
The heralds carried Hafender’s orders through the ranks of men, just as a lone horseman thundered into sight. He pushed his horse hard across the clearing, heading straight for the general.
Brogan’s guts contracted. Some of the men tensed, raising their weapons, but Hafender remained calm and waved them down as they recognised their own scout coming into range.
The rider dismounted at Hafender’s feet, panting as hard as his frothing horse.
‘They are less than half an hour’s march behind me,’ he reported.
The ominous words were repeated along the lines of men, stirring nervous talk.
‘Good lad. Take your horse to camp and freshen up; we may have need of the cavalry later.’
Hafender signalled the horn blower and a long shrill note rang out. The silence that followed was laden with anticipation. The hairs on Brogan’s neck bristled and he wiped his sweating palms down his breeches.
Hafender’s voice rose to encompass them all. ‘Men and woman of Kalaya, the time has come to fight for our home and our freedom. We stand now as brothers and sisters united under the Sentinel’s banner. We won’t cave. We’ll send the raiders back home.’
Cheers filled the plain. Brogan added his own war cry to the wall of sound.
Time passed and then the horn sounded again, rolling over them, calling all to silence.
Hafender paced the line. ‘Hold firm my brothers and sisters. The next time you hear the horn, it will be to battle.’
In the distance, the enemy marched into view.
Brogan gripped his sword hilt and then forced his hand to relax.
He glanced back over the army stretching behind him, looking for Tei.
She stood on a hillock next to the Sentinel. Elders and warriors too injured to fight in the main skirmish surrounded them, forming the last line of defence should the army fall.
Both women were dressed in battle garb and their cloaks billowed out behind them in the breeze. The Sentinel held the ornately carved wooden staff Hilda had given her at the celebration meal for the battle general. He couldn’t see the feisty old woman amongst the other Elders, and was glad; the battleground was no place for any of them.
Tei must have sensed his gaze. She turned as if to search him out through the sea of defenders and Brogan wished in that moment for his mother’s magic.
Ellas elbowed him in the ribs, forcing him to turn back to face the enemy. They were slowly closing in, riders in black at the helm. He saw Rathnor, and hatred burst from him - he craved the chance to kill the assemblyman, even if the cost was death.
He noticed Ellas gripping his sword and saw the fear in his friend’s eyes. ‘He’s terrifying,’ Ellas said in a strangled voice.
Bogan sneered. ‘It’s just magic. He’s trying to trick us and force fear into our hearts.’ Brogan raised his voice for everyone to h
ear. ‘Rathnor’s a man like you or me. He still bleeds and he will still die under our blades.’ Brogan drew his sword and held it high above his head.
Others followed suit, but at the helm, Hafender raised his arms. ‘Hold firm!’
Brogan lowered his blade and took some deep breaths. As he re-found his calm, he heard shifting in the ranks behind him. Brogan turned to see Tei leading several men towards the front line.
Brogan recognised Assis, as did many others, who whooped greeting to the crippled soldier. The second man had a patch over one eye, but he looked broad and powerful, and his good eye shone with battle lust.
Tei squeezed in alongside Brogan.
‘What are you doing here?’
In answer, she drew her sword.
‘Tei, no.’
She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling. For once, a warrior’s braid tamed her wild hair and she looked more beautiful than ever.
‘Don’t even think about arguing,’ she said, her words an echo of his own spoken just days before.
‘Tei, this is different.’
‘The risk is the same.’ She reached out and took his hand, her skin soft against his own calloused palm. ‘If it comes to battle, then I will fight and die at your side.’
He gazed down at the woman he loved, so brave and fierce, and remembered pulling her from the Avalene. He knew Tei was a fighter, but he would have done anything to protect her from this moment.
Brogan swallowed hard as he adjusted the grip on his sword. ‘I hope your sword skills have improved.’
She laughed, the sound filling him with pain.
Together, they turned to face the advancing army closing the distance between them. Everyone in the Kalayan ranks had fallen silent as they watched the enemy. The foreigners looked like formidable fighters and the sight of the Masked Riders set fear into many hearts.
Brogan only had eyes for Rathnor. The hatred inside him burnt like a furnace. He squeezed the hilt of his sword until he thought it would snap or his knuckles would pop.
‘Hold firm.’ Hafender’s voice rang out, a reminder to impatient minds, courage to faint hearts.
Rathnor rode ahead of his army. Flanked by Masked Riders with the raiders at their centre, it was a display to ensure everyone focused on him. Despite the hate clouding his judgement, Brogan had to admit Rathnor played his part well. Even without magic altering his senses, he could see the confident air of the former assemblyman. Slowly the formation of the enemy shifted as the Masked Riders dropped back to flank the foreigners who clustered behind Rathnor. They now mirrored the Kalayan battle line, though there were fewer archers amongst the enemy infantry.
Their own archers tensed.
‘Hold!’ Hafender shouted, as the enemy drew to a halt out of bow range.
Brogan studied the raiders. They wore no protection against arrow or sword, but they exuded an air of experience.
He heard muttered curses all around him and the men shifted restlessly. He sought out Rathnor as the evil dictator raked his gaze across the defenders’ line. Rathnor saluted Brogan, a lazy smile playing across his lips.
Brogan raised his sword and pointed the tip at Rathnor, watching his enemy’s grin widen. Then Tei put her hand on the blade, pushing it towards the ground. He glanced down at her. There was no trace of fear in her.
‘Don’t let him rile you.’
Tei’s calmness descended upon him.
‘Marry me, Brogan.’
‘What?’ He wondered if he’d misheard her whispered words. ‘What about the rules?’
‘We have the Sentinel’s blessing, remember? When this is over, I want us to get married,’ Tei said, her expression serious.
Brogan stared dumbfounded at her until Ellas nudged his arm. ‘Don’t keep the lady waiting for her answer.’
Brogan bowed before Tei. ‘It would be my honour to marry you.’
Cheers rose from those in the ranks close enough to hear them. Laughing, Brogan turned back to Rathnor and saw his nemesis was glowering at them.
‘You never broke me, you bastard,’ he said under his breath.
He put his free arm around Tei and bent to kiss her. Victory, or no victory, he was the happiest man alive.
***
Rathnor made an effort to quell his anger. In a few minutes the useless army before him would be dead and the smile permanently removed from Brogan’s face. Humour restored, Rathnor surveyed his army of superior warriors. Farrell’s men were a battle-hardened race of sailors five hundred strong, while the Masked Riders were killers of the highest calibre. They would tear through the Kalayan defence and Rathnor could see his prize standing on a hill at the back of her army. He’d sweep the young woman aside and take the magic for himself.
His pulse quickened; the culmination of so many years of planning was about to be realised. He revelled in the anticipation, breathed in the smells, held the image of the victims’ faces in his mind and tasted the sweetness of victory on his tongue.
Rathnor raised his sword above his head. ‘Infantry, charge!’
His voice carried over the silent clearing but nothing happened.
He stood frozen in place, sword still raised above his head, and then turned back to look at his army. ‘I command you to charge.’
Farrell’s men didn’t react. They remained passive behind him, sword points facing the earth at their feet. Those that met his eye no longer quelled in awe or fear.
Rathnor reached for Farrell’s mind; the commander should have echoed his orders. He reached for the spell binding the foreign commander to his will, and found there was nothing.
The men parted and Farrell stepped into the space they’d created; he was smiling.
‘What’s going on?’ Rathnor frantically grasped for a new spell to seize control of the commander’s mind.
Farrell continued to smile as Rathnor batted ineffectually against the wall the foreigner had erected around himself.
Understanding came late to Rathnor. ‘That bitch got to you.’
‘It’s time to surrender. There’ll be no fighting today.’ Farrell nodded, the briefest of movements, while his gaze fixed on something behind Rathnor.
He spun back, seeing the archers moving into position with the points of their arrows trained on his chest.
‘Don’t try anything,’ Farrell warned. ‘If you kill me, my men have orders to fill you with arrows.’
There were ten bowmen, too many for Rathnor to tackle at once. He thought quickly, as ropes made their way along the line of men and into Farrell’s hands.
Rathnor refused to panic; there was still time to rescue his plan.
He pulsed out to Farrell’s mind with one almighty effort, pushing aside the wall, forcing inside the weaker man’s defences. He was shocked to find Farrell waiting for him.
You weren’t expecting this, were you? You never bargained on the island opening my magic. Now you have no control over me. If you dare to enter my mind again, I’ll kill you.
Then to prove his point, Farrell pushed against him. The power behind the blow flung Rathnor back into his body.
Still reeling in shock, he faced the grinning commander who was holding out his hand for Rathnor’s sword.
In that moment, he knew defeat. He wanted to slice the bastard’s head from his shoulders, but instead he reversed the blade and offered it hilt first to his betrayer. As he did, he reached out for Nadan.
The captain of the Masked Riders was waiting for him. What’s going on?
They betrayed us, but there’s still a chance. Go for the Sentinel, kill her and victory can still be ours.
Yes, Master, Nadan responded, without question.
The pressure of ropes pulled tight around his wrists tugged Rathnor back to reality. He heard the cheering of both sides as Farrell’s men and Kalaya’s defenders joined in the celebration of his capture. For a moment, Rathnor felt something unaccustomed, fear.
Then he glimpsed them in the distance, Nadan’s twenty men coming out of hidin
g to thunder up behind the Sentinel. Shielded by a concealing spell, the twenty Masked Riders had left before dawn, riding a wide arc around the Kalayan camp ready to come at them from the rear if required. It had been Rathnor’s intention to stop the Sentinel fleeing back to the mountains when she realised the battle was lost, but now they served a better purpose. When the Sentinel was dead, the Kalayans would fall into panic.
Rathnor smiled and felt the bitter taste of his betrayal already abating.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tei found herself jostled amid the celebrating lines of defenders, their victorious roars deafening. She clung to Brogan’s arm. He looked down at her, smiling but there was still a hard edge to his eyes and no show of the happiness Rathnor’s defeat should have given him.
‘It’s all too easy,’ he shouted above the cheers of their army.
Together they pushed forward from the throng and looked across the divide of land to the raiders and their prisoner. Ropes bound Rathnor’s hands behind his back and tied his legs at the knees. Farrell held the end of the rope, while his men still trained arrows at Rathnor’s chest.
Rathnor turned towards them. It wasn’t the face of a beaten man, Tei realised, as a smile played across his lips.
Cold fear seized her body. ‘He’s going to kill Callisa,’ she said, even as the thought formed.
Tei looked along the line of Masked Riders, disarmed and bound up by Farrell’s men, and realised Nadan wasn’t with them.
‘Brogan, they’re going to kill the Sentinel!’
Brogan’s expression darkened, and then he propelled them both back into the crowd. Together they fought their way towards the camp.
‘You have to warn her,’ he shouted in her ear, breaking through the spell of inaction that had gripped her thoughts.
Callisa, Nadan is coming to kill you.
I know, she answered, and broke the connection.
With Brogan at her side, Tei forced her way through the tide of celebrating people, desperately looking for familiar faces.
Hafender, the Sentinel is in terrible danger. She sent out the warning, unable to see the general anywhere.
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